Amante
by Ereluna
Summary: Naruto’s whispered words were heard as if they were screams in the calm night. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sakura-chan.” And, in effect, they were. Kakasaku. For 30Kisses


So, when I first wrote this, I would tell you that I hated it... but after some supremely awesome beta-ing by my besties SecretBox and Misaki Ami, I can say that I like it. XD About the state of Konoha... this is what I imagine may happen under the next Hokage's rule. ^^ It's gonna be so fun! -_-

Away with the ranting! I don't own Naruto... it'd be havoc if I did... so, yeah.

30Kisses #14 - Radio Cassette Player

**Amante**

_Was a long and dark December_

_From the rooftops I remember_

_There was snow_

_White snow_

Winter came to Konoha late in December. White flakes drifted lazily from the clouds overhead onto the rubble filled roads, bringing with it a frigid cold that sank into one's skin and chilled to the bone. The sun had set hours before, leaving the sky a dark shade of grey that drained the world of color while it contrasted with the blindingly white snow that covered the rocky ground.

An obscured figure walked to the gates, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he slouched against the bitter wind. He led a group of worn shinobi that staggered behind him, their feet heavy with the cutting pain of loss, his attention focused entirely on the village gates.

Hatake Kakashi.

Known as The Sharingan Kakashi; and the Copy-nin, he was the stoic protector of the Hidden Leaf Village. He was a jonin; elite in his rank, and in any other, listed in every bingo book in existence. A child prodigy put into Konoha's service shortly after he left toddler-hood.

He stood before the gates, lifting his mismatched gaze to the sky above to watch the fading stars as he crossed the threshold into the fallen village.

Kakashi fought endlessly for his home, blood staining his gloves, sweat beading on his skin. He gave everything to his village, leaving only fragments of himself for the ones that cared for him to find and salvage.

Many had asked him what he did off-duty. He was never off-duty; he told them after pausing to gather the energy required to make such a statement without care. They never understood and, it was an expected response. There weren't a lot of people that could understand him, let alone see underneath the underneath to who he was, how he was and why he was.

Many only saw what he wasn't. And, maybe to those inquiring people, he was less human than the rest because of this; a better tool than any could imagine being. There were few people that could kill without betraying the ripping and staining of ones very soul that came with taking a life; despite who they might've been.

Yet, he breathed, he slept, he ate, and he fucked, along with all those other basic necessities. He was alive, if only in the barest meaning of the word. Still, sometimes people forgot he was living, when he walked through the gates, his jonin uniform caked in blood and dirt, his face buried in the pages of a book, as he made his way to his small apartment. Behind him, the weary and torn shinobi followed, one bearing a fallen comrade over his broad shoulder, legs brushing against his chest as bloodied feet dangled, thumping rhythmically against his thigh with every step he took.

The children gasped, pausing in their play in the snow, and hid behind their mother's skirts. The mothers covered their mouths, held open in silent shock. The fathers held their wives and children in their arms; their eyes filled an emotion that resembled shame.

The other shinobi would only spare a glance, their bodies tensed; ready for the slightest movement that signaled any coming battle. It was war that had done this, to every man and woman he knew; war that had made it's way around twice before. But, this one was bound to be the worst of them all. Iwagakure was expected to invade within weeks.

And, they couldn't be in a worst position, even with their allies in Sand. There was hardly a home to protect anymore; it had been decimated more times than could be counted on a single hand. The Rock-nin were simply taking an opportunity where they saw it.

But, Konoha wouldn't go down without a fight.

Kakashi met the unfocused gaze of a seasoned chuunin taking guard a several yards from the gates, his eye watching as the man lowered his head respectfully as the group passed. Yet, all the men turned as a small cry sounded ahead of them, and they watched as a small girl fell unceremoniously to the hard dirt, she was no older than five. Her brown eyes watered as she lifted her gaze to the imposing shinobi that she'd literally ran into.

The shinobi stood there; staring impassively down at her until her father rushed forward and scooped her up into his arms, whispering comforting words to the now quiet child. Over her father's shoulder, her gaze turned to him, innocent eyes openly watching the way a trail of crimson ran from beneath his headband to saturate his mask.

Kakashi smiled at her, his eye crinkling happily despite his pounding headache. He heard her stifled gasp, and a pang of guilt ran through him as he heard her shocked sound. His charcoal eye saw her small fingers tightly grasping her father's jacket while she buried her face into his neck.

It was no small wonder that civilians looked upon the ninja with such fear and revulsion. While they were aware that these strangers protected them with their lives, it was difficult to see them as humans, when they kept their faces unreadable, and harbored such destructive strength and cunning; when they looked at crying little girls with blank faces. And, even when they smiled, blood dripping from their clothes and skin.

It was also difficult to believe what you'd only heard, and never seen.

Unfortunately, there was always the possibility that, one day, they would see one of these strangers die for them, if not many. And, when it happened, there was no guarantee that it would ever stop; not until every single man, woman, and child was an empty shell with lifeless eyes decorating the war-torn streets.

This was the thought that haunted Kakashi on missions while he waited in the shadows for his target to take a step into the darkness. This image was the one that stayed as he leapt through the trees on his way home. He saw their lifeless eyes staring back at him in his darkest nightmares, when he woke up alone from a lonely rest on a thick branch, the fabric of his mask choking him until he was forced to remove it, just to breathe.

Regardless of how much these people feared him; and how much it hurt; he wanted to protect them until his very last breath.

He passed the continuing scene without a word, keeping a careful pace to spare his slashed feet any more pain, yet anxious to get to the only place that could hide him from the haunting gazes of terrified children.

His apartment came into view; a lone window on the 4th floor of an older building with endless strands of ivy climbing up the discolored bricks and rusted metal. It was on the edge of town, and had been one of the few buildings that had mysteriously survived. Most thought that the original builder has employed a jutsu on the property, but no one knew what.

Kakashi stared up at the balcony for a moment before channeling chakra to his feet and leaping up to land noiselessly outside his window, stifling his wince by biting his lip until it split. It was already open. He smiled as he lifted his headband and climbed in, both his mismatched eyes taking in the sight on his bed.

The pain that radiated from every inch of his body; that pounded in his head, the wounds that stung at his chakra burned hand lessened as he stepped down from the windowsill, absently watching his shadow play across her luminescent skin.

Spread across his bed, her rosette hair fanned across his pillow, her face peaceful in the brilliant moonlight that streamed through the window, was Sakura; his lover, sleeping while his small radio played quietly in the background. It played a familiar song; a tape he'd lost at least a decade before; a poignant melody he was fond of all through his teenage years.

So, she'd found it. He knew her curiosity had been awakened when she found the old tape player at the top of his closet, but no tapes with it. He'd told her of his favorite and only, and there was no doubt in his mind that she'd search high and low for it.

He couldn't help the bit of nostalgia that came with hearing it after a long twelve years.

Kakashi shed his torn uniform at the foot of the bed, letting the heavy fabric of his jonin vest fall to the floor with a heavy thud. His shoes followed, and after that his pants and shirts, until he stood there, clad only in a pair of boxers, as the chill in the air bit at the sticky layer of sweat and blood that covered every inch of him.

Without regard for the clean sheets or her pristine night clothes, he climbed into the bed and under the covers, curling himself around her to sleep in her warmth. And, she shifted back welcomingly, a small smile curving her lips.

It was just as they'd been after the last mission, and the one before that; nearly reaching all the way back to the day she'd shown up on his doorstep, her medic's kit in her hands, a fierce glare in her eyes that told him speaking would be even worse to his health.

He let her in. She forced him into his kitchen without a word, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing him down to sit on a kitchen chair with a methodical professionalism that was at odds with the tender concern in her emerald eyes as they met his. He watched her silently, before he directed his gaze out of the small kitchen window; wishing he'd had the sense to grab his book before he opened the door.

He also wished he hadn't left his mask and hitai-ate on his nightstand. Books were easier to read when their covers lay open and exposed, revealing the pages underneath. And, Sakura had gotten better at reading people. As if his thoughts were sounded aloud, Sakura's actions paused for a moment, and she looked him over before shaking her head and finishing her healing.

It took an hour to heal his wounds, and almost all of her chakra. He quietly told her to lie down on his small bed as she stared at the dismantled radio cassette player that lay on his desk; abandoned. She complied without protest; falling face-first into his shuriken printed covers and flattened pillow with a thump. He sat comfortably in a worn chair in the corner and began reading with the sound of her light snores in the background.

After a while, his hand fell to his lap, still loosely holding his prized book in his grasp. Kakashi watched the young woman lying on his bed, her lips parted over a wet spot on her left hand, while her other arm cushioned her head; the pillow had ended up on the edge of the bed, and her legs tangled in his worn coverlet.

With a small smile on his face, Kakashi fell asleep watching her.

He awoke to her, sitting on the edge of his bed with her elbows resting on her knees and her chin on her hand, looking a little more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed than her usual; which had consisted of an elaborate language of grunts and glares. He returned her look with a blank-ish stare and a hard shrug of his shoulder that caused a pleasantly pain pop in his neck. He was barely awake when she stood and made her way to stand before him. He was surprised when she leaned down and brushed her lips lightly over the corner of his mouth.

Kakashi was so surprised, that avoided her for weeks. But, for those weeks, his eyes remained clear, and the ache in his chest subsided, if only a little.

But, over the next few months he found himself with her more and more. She would show up on his doorstep, always with something in her hands. Be a medic's kit, or a book, or, his favorite, lunch. She ate with him, purposefully turning away to stare out the cracked window. She read while lying across his small couch, taking time to explain the more complication diagrams of human anatomy to him, when he was curious.

She sat at his desk putting the cassette player together, and he stood over her, pointing out all of the pieces that needed fixing, as she wielded the miniature screwdriver that was all but impossible for his hands to hold; her face the picture of determination while he blithely told her that no real man would touch tools so tiny. She laughed.

And on those days when their roles reversed, she healed herself while sitting on his kitchen floor, tears running down her cheeks as he watched silently trying to comfort her, if only in his own mind.

When Kakashi found himself looking forward to the knock on his door, he knew he was in trouble, and promptly pushed his fist through the wall next to his bedroom door. It was an absent gesture, without much thought, as his mind was racing around her image, standing there on his doorstep with a smile on her lips as he opened the door; breaking into laughter as he lowered his mask and picked up his abandoned toothbrush and began brushing his teeth again.

While staring at the new hole in the wall –in his hole in the decided to ignore the pull in his chest, the thoughts in his head, and the voice in his ear that said told him that it wasn't so bad.

Kakashi found himself regretting his decision when she was a week late coming back from an A-Class mission.

He regretted it when he saw her walking down the street toward the Hokage's Tower, with seven new scars that ran diagonally across her exposed back underneath her torn shirt and a still healing burn that encompassed her left hand. She smiled beatifically, giving him the sign for victory with her right hand. He returned her wave, and went about his way, knowing he wouldn't see her until the next time she showed up on his doorstep.

Sakura did appear that night, but she came through his window. Without a sound, she climbed through his windowsill, bringing with her a welcome breeze that lightened the stifling heat that hung in the air. She propped the window open before she crossed the small room and sat at the edge of his bed, pulling her boots off.

The copy-nin studied the bandages around her hand intently, absently noticing her leaning back and shimmying up until she laid next to him, her face level with his, and her lips a breath away. She smiled. And, she kissed him.

And, that night, everything changed.

--

A sharp knocking on the door pulled Kakashi from the edge of oblivion, his eyes snapping open when Sakura shrugged out of the covers and sleepily stumbled to the door, her eyes filled with an indefinable emotion that brightened her eyes in the darkness as she passed him without a glance.

Kakashi rose from the bed, his footsteps silent as he watched her stop in front of the cassette player, her slender fingers hovering over the buttons before pressing play. The music immediately filled the room from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. And, before he could say a word, she crossed the space to the front door and swung it open, smiling happily.

There stood Naruto, leaning his head against the doorframe as tears streamed down his whiskered cheeks. His cerulean eyes lifted to meet hers, and his voice was a choked murmur, but Naruto's words were heard as if they were screams in the calm night.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sakura-chan."

And, in effect, they were.

Kakashi's eyes widened, staring sightlessly as the pounding in his head returned full force, and with it, images; countless Rock-nin standing ahead of him, their bodies tensed for battle, fists clenched around large shuriken.

He remembered his hand burning as he pushed chakra through every cell down to his fingertips; the sound of chirping echoing in his ears. Sharp rocks biting into his feet through his hoes as he rushed over them, and the trail of red wetness that filled the scar etched beneath his borrowed eye; wracking his mind with pain so intense that he had to fight the scream that tore at his throat.

And, the enemy shinobi fell like flies before him; they were on the ground, their chests seared and their faces contorted into silent screams. And, with no one left standing before him, he fell backwards onto the rocky ground, and turned his eyes to the overcast sky as snow drifted down gently to fall upon his prone form.

Kakashi remembered thinking of the ones he left behind, of those who could be waiting for him. He thought of Sakura, waiting for him to come home so she could patch him up, and make him smile and laugh, so that maybe for a few hours they could forget about the pain they faced everyday.

And, no matter how much he wanted out of the misery-ridden life he had built for himself, he knew that he wanted to live for her; with her. He wanted to hold her, kiss her and touch her; make her smile, laugh, and blush. He wanted to see her face, every night and every morning, and every time in-between.

But, even as these thoughts bought a smile to his face, a pool of blood spilled underneath his head and his every limb trembled with piercing pain. A quiet sigh escaped his lips while his heart slowed and slowed, until it eventually it stopped beating altogether.

The world went dark before his pink-tinted vision, and his sightless eyes stared to the sky, before his borrowed Sharingan went black for the first time since Obito's death, and for the last time in his own.

Hatake Kakashi lay there, on a lonely field; his crimson stained hair blending seamlessly with the rosette snow.

And, that was how it ended.

Kakashi watched as the smile fell from Sakura's face. She shook her head emphatically; once, then twice. Her hand came up to cover her mouth to stifle her soundless cries. Her eyes shined in the dim light of the outside hallway, her tears overflowing. The blonde rushed forward to catch her when she collapsed to the floor, and he held her tightly as she trembled in his embrace.

He stared down at his bloodied hands, at the reddish stains underneath his fingernails. He lifted one hand to his chest, and he waited one moment, and then a moment more.

There was nothing.

Not a beat from his heart; only a wrenching pain that burned his eyes as they held the sight of the young woman, crying in her best friend's arms, inconsolable. Naruto rocked her back and forth soothingly, crying with her even he tried to comfort her.

Kakashi crossed the living room to stand before Naruto and Sakura, and he fell to his knees. He reached out to touch her cheek gently, but stopped a lonely inch away, his fingertips hesitating before he pulled his hand back to his side.

_I love you, Sakura. I never wanted to leave you._

He ignored the salty tears that washed away the blood on his cheeks, as he sat there on his living room floor. He ignored everything, but the sound of her quiet cries.

And, the music played on.

_I took my love down to Violet Hill_

_There we sat in the snow_

_All that time, she was silent still_


End file.
